


Desperately Seeking Agents

by CassieIngaben



Category: The Professionals (TV 1977)
Genre: Crack, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:40:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25172515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassieIngaben/pseuds/CassieIngaben
Summary: "Bodie, wouldn't it be fun if I replied to their ad? Retired homosexual CI5 ex-member, next of kin Controller Bodie…"
Relationships: William Bodie/Ray Doyle
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	1. Desperately Seeking Agents

As CI5 Controller W.A.P. Bodie opened the door to his house, and fumbled for the light switch, he was attacked by a quick-moving and able opponent and wrestled to the floor.

"Gotcha!"

"Oooof, Ray you moron, get off me, I'm tired and it's late..." 

"You are growing old, my son"

"May I remind you I am two years younger than you?"

Doyle got up and helped Bodie pick himself off the floor, while he switched the light on. "Touche. Oh, by the way, remind me I have something _very_ funny to show you—after dinner, of course. Lasagna is ready."

"Funny like, you sold another splotch of paint for a ridiculous price?"

"Nah, that's not funny, that's normal" Doyle grinned. "As long as you don't find out how I hypnotise the Japanese buyers into smuggling in shipments of tamagotchis for the black market in exchange for my 'splotches'." 

"That would be MI6's work, not mine! - unless they run out of James Bonds, that is" 

Doyle started to laugh _really_ loudly, folding over a kitchen chair. "Oh, don't worry— they won't!" 

Mildly puzzled, Bodie raised an eyebrow and took out the plates, then the steaming lasagna from the microwave. It looked good.

*

"So, what was so funny?" asked Bodie after he was comfortably seated on the sofa, a glass of scotch on his hand, the other arm round Doyle's shoulder, the 10 o'clock news on TV. Doyle chuckled, and rustled about for the _Guardian_ , finally finding the section he had folded apart. 

"If you can bring yourself to read a pinko paper, there it is," Doyle produced with a flourish. "If you knew and didn't tell me, you are dead; if you didn't know, it's time for your refresher."

Bodie grabbed the page and, rather than search for his glasses, put his nose to it to read. A guffaw first came out from behind the newspaper, then other strangled sounds, and finally explosive, spluttering laughter; fearing for the glass of scotch, Doyle just managed to catch it as it fell from Bodie's hold. 

"They were _serious_ , they were bloody _serious_!" Bodie finally exhaled in a still-strangled tone—"Desperately Seeking MI5 agents... My God, Lander has really cracked up this time!" 

Doyle's face grew ominous: "They were serious? You mean you _knew_? You knew and didn't tell _me_?" 

Bodie shook his head, still speechless. "I talked to Lander last month, and he said they were so worried about the drop in employment that they were thinking of advertising, and asked if I'd had ever considered it—I basically laughed in his face, ever so poshly of course, and I told them that people don't look for to us, we find them." He smiled reminiscingly. "Anyway, I thought he wouldn't do it. And here they are. Uhm, I should have been more intimidating... "

"Intimidating? You should have shot him and then blamed the new electronic security setup!" 

Bodie shrugged. "MI5 is going to seed, anyway —an _ad_ on the paper!" he smiled at Doyle, innocently—"and they also chose _The Guardian_! I'll tell Blair next time I see him..." 

Doyle made a sour face. "Don't remind me of the price of victory, will you?" He peered at the newspaper again. "They sure have a way of putting things, though—'create waves and prevent repercussions ... extract yourself from less promising circumstances ... Security threats never conform to neat routines...'."

The counterpoint of giggles from both men soon led to a tickling fight, then to more seriously exciting activities. At some point, among wriggling limbs and gasping sounds, Doyle's head peeked up, eyes shining with mischief, and he said: "Bodie, wouldn't it be fun if I replied to their ad? Retired homosexual CI5 ex-member, next of kin Controller Bodie—OUCH!" 

Bodie's hands grabbed a handful of silvery curls and pulled them down strongly, ignoring the outraged yelp coming from Doyle. "Try that and next thing you know, both you and Lander will be found floating in the Thames - my new security setup can be _very_ defective...."


	2. The Hot Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "OK you can call the Hot Line if you want—but NOT from this phone! Use a public, untapped one..."

"NO!"

"YES!"

"NO!"

"YES!"

Bodie hit his forehead with his spread hand—"I can't believe we are _actually_ arguing over this..." Then he started to laugh at the fair imitation of his own pout that Doyle was making. "OK you can call the Hot Line if you want—but NOT from this phone! Use a public, _untapped_ one..." 

"Doyle showed him his tongue. 

"Spoilsport!" 

Bodie sighed. It got worse all the time... What a way of spending the holiday seasons! First all the weeks spent in "conference" with Lander and the others, arguing to the death over the latest stupid idea of MI5; then all the flak he got from the Minister when his opinion was put into the minority; then MI6 got themselves caught red-handed spying the EEC "fellow" countries—that had earned them all a special place in the gutter press of the whole continent for being bad bad bad. If he read one more headline about the Whitehall James Bonds he was going to scream! Then all the work they had to do to patch up, and above all prevent the press from finding out that the EEC "fellow" countries had been spying us all along—of course. What the else they expected, Bodie wondered—the EEC version of creampuffs? He let his mind be side-tracked briefly but deliciously by a vision of _Sachertorte_ , _Profiteroles_ , _Tiramisu_ and _Baklava_ in a line, all coming over to spy them... _sigh_. It was hardest to keep a diet over the Holidays, Doyle made a mean Christmas pudding...

Bodie blinked, realising Doyle was looking at him with an interrogative air: "What are you thinking about, Bodie? You look wistful."

"Ehr, well ... Just thinking back to these last weeks. It's been hell at work—it seems like all I do is cleaning up after MI5 and MI6 ..."

"I always thought they needed a keeper" sniggered Doyle, getting up from the sofa and unconspicuously walking nearer and nearer the phone.

"Back off that phone, Doyle..." warned Bodie, not distracted enough by his train of thought not to notice Doyle's wandering path.

"Oh, Bodie, where is your sense of humour? You used to be the meanest practical joker ..."

"Not when I would end up crucified by my own joke, mate!"

"You don't have to talk or anything - I'll do it..."

"So what do you need me for?"

"Moral support ... and Lander's private number?" Doyle smiled as seductively as he could, twisting himself up in order to improve on his patented Sensual Sprawl Against the Wall.

Bodie sighed theatrically : "You only love me for my body and my address book! And guess how long it will take them to find out how that particular number got around..." 

"Ah, cum'on, Bodie - they couldn't find their way out of a paper bag! Besides, if you don't give me that number I will make a painting out of those pictures of you—"

"You don't dare!" Spluttered Bodie, growing red.

Fast to prey on anyone's weaknesses, Doyle crowed: "You are becoming all red! Quite pretty... "—he added hastily as Bodie went puce and started stalking toward him, then realised he was only compounding the offence and tried a diversionary manoeuvre. He pounced and grabbed Bodie in a constrictor hug. They ended up on the sofa in a tangle of limbs, making wet noises. In a few minutes, cleverly employing the technique known as sexual blackmail, Doyle got the desired number. 

Some time later, as Bodie lay sleeping on the sofa, soot-coloured lashes on alabaster skin, a satisfied smile and very few remaining clothes, Doyle tiptoed surreptitiously to the phone, lifted it circumspectly and dialled stealthily. After very few rings, a voice answered.

"Hello. Lander here."

Doyle panted in the headpiece: "Hello, is this the MI5 Hot Line? I want to talk to a hot spy hunk full of spunk and secrets... Tell me everything, babe ... make me know it all..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the sequel to "Desperately Seeking Agents", again incorporating current events from the time it was written in January 1998. Published as a Xmas Pressie on the CI5 list.


	3. The Hot Come-on Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A horrible thought started to dawn on Bodie.

Bodie glanced at his crowded appointment book for the day, making a face; then he applied himself to scrawl—just below the date, February, 14—florist: roses". Sighing in satisfaction, he leaned back in his chair, and thumbed the intercom: "OK, Betty, let the first one in".

" _Sir? There is an unexpected visitor here. It's mister Lander, sir. He says it's urgent, if you could see him now_."

Bodie made a puzzled face: "Of course Betty. Let him—"

Before Bodie could finish his sentence, the door slammed open and Stephen Lander, Head of MI5, strode in.

"William!!!"

Bodie winced. "Hello Lander, how are you?"

Lander grinned the manic grin Bodie privately labelled shark-like. "It is a great day, William. A great day!"

In the instant of silence that followed, Bodie decided he did not at all like the glinting sparkle in Lander's eye, and automatically sat up, barely stopping himself from reaching for his gun. "Would you like a cup of tea, Lander? I can ask Betty—" Bodie was interrupted by a swift gesture of refusal, and went on almost smoothly, eyes narrowing imperceptibly: "Well then, Lander, what is so urgent that cannot even wait for a cuppa?"

Lander stood in perfect silence, shining eyes fixed on Bodie's face. "I knew it. The instant it happened, I _knew_ it had to be you . . . I almost didn't bother to have it checked—discreetly of course." 

Bodie could not follow this at all, but he realised he was in trouble. Big trouble. 

Lander slowly moved towards Bodie, circling round the desk. "At last. I have been waiting for this . . . " He pounced, and landed rather heavily on a flabbergasted Bodie, who was divided between weighing the pros and cons of killing the head of a quasi-rival governmental agency, and trying to catch the many flailing arms Lander seemed to have grown while not being squashed. Then all thoughts fled as Bodie felt a large, wet and warm object trying to force itself into his mouth— _what the fuck_!—Bodie whipped away, screaming in outrage at the attempted kiss, barely hearing what Lander was blabbering in the vicinity of his ears: "Oh, I always wanted you, big tough man, and when you made that phone call, I . . . "

Lander landed against the farthest wall with a rather sickening thud. His vision blurred, he guessed more than saw Bodie looming over him—he was thankful he could not make out the man's expression at all—and growling: " _What_ phone call, Lander?"

As Lander whimpered and covered his face with his hands, a horrible thought started to dawn on Bodie. There was a minute of silence. Then two minutes. Then three. Lander timidly peeked between two fingers, still poised for the fatal blow. No-one. He shakily got up, and trying to recompose his clothes, went out of the office. A rather surprised Betty stared at him, as he asked with patently false nonchalance the whereabouts of Mr. Bodie. 

Betty shrugged, more than a bit confused. "I don't know, sir. Must have been some pretty dire emergency, because he didn't say where he was going. Actually, I don't think he noticed me at all—he was screaming something but the only thing I could understand was 'the next one is gonna be a death story' . . . "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the sequel to "The Hot Line" and it was published on the CI5 mailing list as a Valentine Pressie on Valentine Day 1998.

**Author's Note:**

> This light vignette was written in 1997 and it was inspired by a discussion on the mailing list CI5. The discussion was about a possible Professionals remake featuring Lewis Collins (it didn't happen, alas) and also about the real item of news that MI6 had been running a series of recruitement ads on the British press.


End file.
